


5+1: Five times Bucky turned somebody on without realizing... and One time he finally noticed

by amerasu1013 (amerasu_1013)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Everyone Needs A Hug, F/M, M/M, No Underage Sex, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Torture, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-24
Updated: 2015-07-24
Packaged: 2018-04-10 22:35:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 9
Words: 8,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4410392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amerasu_1013/pseuds/amerasu1013
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Bucky turned somebody on without realising or even planning to do it. And: One time he finally noticed.<br/>From Steve to women, from Steve again to German scientists and back to Steve, because Steve is the only one that really counts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One: Steve at 15

**Author's Note:**

> As usual: English is not my native tongue and this is un-betaed. Please feel free to point out any mistakes, seriously!!  
> And, also as usual: I don't own any of the characters in here, except from the two OFCs. Not mine, never will be, no matter how often I dream about it... so I have to content myself with borrowing the charactes for my (and hopefully your) entertainment.
> 
> Addional warnings at the beginning of each chapter, if necessary.
> 
> Oh, and here follow spoilers:
> 
>  
> 
> Fair warning: there will be somewhat explicit action between Bucky and OFCs in here. Additionally, Arnim Zola comes with his own warning (and no, that bit will not be explicit).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for this one: Steve is (as is probably clear from the chapter title) 15 in here. There’s no sex, it’s really not very explicit at all, but still, underage warning just in case.

It’s a warm night. Even with every window thrown wide open the air feels stifling, thick and somehow almost solid, pressing down on Steve like a suffocating blanket. A breeze would be welcome, heck, a whisper of air, anything, but there is none. Just the heat and the stars, blinking down at him through the open window. Steve sighs and wipes his forehead for the umpteenth time, thinking longingly of shadows and cool streams and heck, even a snow storm sounds great right now. He ponders getting a glass of water, something to cool himself down, even if it’s just for five minutes, but the mere idea of moving makes more sweat bead on his forehead. It’s simply too hot tonight, too hot to move around, too hot to sleep.

Bucky however, doesn’t seem to care.

He’s lying on the bed next to Steve, on his back, arms and legs thrown wide as usual, taking up far more than half of the bed, forcing Steve to almost balance on the edge of the mattress, having to be careful he doesn’t fall clean off. Steve is pretty used to this by now, it happens whenever Bucky sleeps here, his friend starts out on what Steve’s come to think of Bucky’s side of the bed and then sort of… migrates closer during the night. It’s not uncommon for Steve to wake up and find himself surrounded by Bucky’s octopus arms, the taller boy curled around him like his favorite teddybear. Not tonight, though, heck no. And if Steve has to shove Bucky a hundred times, he will, it’s way too hot for skin contact, they’ll probably stick together, sweaty like they are.

It is a night like many before, but something’s… different. They’ve shared a bed hundreds of times by now, Bucky’s Dad is… not the nicest man, especially when he’s drunk, and whenever Bucky wants to escape his own home, his Mom’s crying and his Dad’s fists, he ends up at Steve’s place. In Steve’s bed. Not that he minds, usually, that’s what friends are for, right? But tonight… something feels different.

Bucky huffs in his sleep, turns on his side and shuffles closer without waking up. Steve doesn’t have anywhere to go anymore, if he moves another inch he will end up on the floor, so he shoves at Bucky to get him to back off. His friend frowns, still fast asleep, but stops his advancement. He’s curled up on his side now, lying directly next to Steve, their faces barely an inch apart. Steve sighs and shoves him again; Bucky grumbles and throws an arm over Steve’s chest.

“Don’, Stevie,” he mumbles, barely waking enough to form the words properly, “’m sleepin’.”

Steve thumps his head back into his pillow a few times in frustration. Bucky’s radiating warmth next to him, the arm over his chest feels like a piece of red-hot iron and yep, now they’re sticking together. But Bucky’s breath puffs over Steve’s cheek with every exhale, like a small, private, rhythmical breeze, just for Steve. It feels quite pleasant, actually. Steve turns on his side and shuffles a little closer, to get closer to these cooling wisps of air. Oh yes, blessed cool air…

Bucky snuffles and shifts, his arm moves and ends up on Steve’s neck. His hand is just lying there, like a warm starfish on Steve’s sweaty skin. “Shh,” Bucky murmurs, mouth curling in a faint smile, “sleep, Stevie.”

His thumb is moving now, gliding over Steve’s neck right below his ear, sort of stroking it. Just a few times, then Bucky’s face evens out when he sinks back down into sleep.

And Steve is lying there, heart beating a furious staccato rhythm and doesn’t dare to even breathe.

That thumb, that small touch at his neck, this tiny bit of contact, feels like a brand. Steve suddenly feels flushed all over, hot, like he did the entire evening, but… different now, all of a sudden. Heat seems to radiate from Bucky’s thumb, travelling directly into Steve’s core, warmth spreading out to his arms and legs, his face, feeling incredible and horrible and fantastic at the same time. The heat concentrates, pools in his stomach, fiery tendrils seeping out lower, lower, funneling in his groin and oh –

It’s not the first time they’ve shared a bed and it won’t be the last, but from now on, Steve sleeps on his stomach, just in case. Just so Bucky won’t notice.


	2. Two: Mrs. Mary Thompson at 43

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for age-difference, just in case. Here, too, is nothing explicit, but Bucky's wayyyy younger than 43...

It’s rather obvious that the boy’s a virgin, really. He stammers and blushes and so desperately wants her to like him, it’s rather adorable. He compliments her, awkward and stuttering, or rather tries to compliment her; it ends up being almost an insult. It would be annoying, Mary thinks, if the boy wasn’t so damn _young_ – he just doesn’t know any better. He should really practice this with someone closer his age, someone with similar experience – or rather, inexperience.

Mary decides to let him down gently, it took a lot of courage from the boy after all, walking up to her, she knows what that’s like. The boy is handsome, there’s no doubt, but if he’s not at least 25 years younger than her, she’ll eat her hat. Far too young, really. She’s probably been married longer than he’s been alive and a widow for a good few years after that – she really shouldn’t.

The boy makes another weak joke, a sort of back-handed compliment that he clearly didn’t think through properly and Mary has just opened her mouth to let him know that she’s not interested, when – oh. Oh dear.

She knows that smile. Rakish, charming, full of mischief – or at least, the promise of all that. He’s not quite grown into that smile yet, the boy, but, but… her dear Henry had that same smile, didn’t he? The old charmer, that naughty man. Mary suddenly remembers herself sneaking from her parents’ house late at night, following that mischievous smile, of to a dark corner where they were alone, Henry and her, and she found out what else that wicked mouth was good for. Hmm.

The boy _is_ rather young and inexperienced. But well, someone could teach him? Yes, someone definitely should, Mary thinks, and smiles back.


	3. Three: Steve at 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Herein: aforementioned somewhat explicit Bucky/OFC. But Steve’s in this chapter as well, that balances it out… ;)

Steve tramples up the stairs to Bucky’s apartment, mustering up the biggest scowl in his arsenal. Damn Bucky, disappearing like that! One minute they’re at the fair, Steve actually sort of having fun, throwing rings at little tin ducks and hitting more than half the targets, the next minute he turns around and Bucky is just – gone. Left him there, all by himself, when Steve didn’t even want to go to the fair in the first place. Sometimes Bucky can be a right bastard, Steve thinks, but this time he’s gonna get an earful!

Steve reaches the top and twists the doorknob savagely, throws the door open and thunders inside, prepared to give his so-called friend a piece of his mind. Then freezes and stands there, mouth gaping wide open. Several things become clear very quickly: The reason why Bucky disappeared, the hurry in which he left and that, once again, Bucky has forgotten to put a sock on the door.

The good thing is that Bucky and… whoever the girl is are apparently much too busy to notice Steve’s less than quiet entrance. The bad thing is… well, Bucky and the girl are very busy indeed.

Steve doesn’t stand there more than a few seconds, before he backs away as quickly and quietly as possible, but the images will be seared into his brain for eternity.

The girl on her back on the table, legs splayed white, one silk stocking still clinging to a delicate ankle. Her skirt shoved up hastily, getting wrinkled against her stomach. Her head thrown back, brown curls bouncing rhythmically with Bucky’s movement, one of her arms pressed against the wall over her head for leverage, the other wrapped around Bucky’s neck.

And Bucky… Bucky between her thighs, pants pooling around his feet, shirt half off his shoulders. His head buried in her cleavage, both hands grabbing the edge of the table next to her hips, fingers pressing and releasing in turn, knuckles whitening with the force of his grip. Hips moving steadily, unerringly, pushing forward, pulling back, again and again and again.

All this Steve notices in these few seconds he watches, all this and more: a tiny mole on Bucky’s back, right at the spot where his back turns into the tender, soft curve of his left cheek. A few beads of sweat, trailing down Bucky’s spine, pooling into the dip at its lower end. A soft-looking dusting of hair on Bucky’s thigh. A small scar on the back of Bucky’s knee, glinting pale in the semi-darkness. And oh, oh God, Bucky’s ass clenching rhythmically with every thrust, muscles contracting and expanding, a mesmerizing display of strength and movement and… and…

Steve closes the door, leans back against the wall and bites his own hand to keep the noises in. His hand moves into his pants, between his legs almost on its own. He touches himself, face blazing, right there in the hallway, right in front of the door, where Bucky is… is…

He brings himself off, muffling his moans in his hands and, God help him, spills right when a deep, guttural groan from the room announces Bucky’s own orgasm.


	4. Four: Zola

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zola is his own warning. Poor Bucky.

The soldier is a fine specimen. Strong, stubborn, very promising. Fights against his bonds, endures the pain with grim determination, bears the torture with delightful resilience, responds well to the treatment and tests. He’s a fine specimen. He will not break easily.

His voice is music to Arnim’s ears, every moan and scream and whimper and curse. Delicious.

Nobody notices that Arnim takes his time. Wouldn’t want this to end too soon.

_Delicious_.


	5. Five: Steve at 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angst warning!! Only two chapters to go till the happy ending, though.

Steve has always been … attuned to Bucky. Only has to enter a room and he somehow knows exactly where Bucky is. Doesn’t even have to see his friend’s face to know what expression it will show, sometimes, especially if Steve does something Bucky thinks is stupid. The others mostly think it’s funny, how Steve and Bucky are behaving when they’re around each other or even when they’re not. There are several things he and Bucky apparently do that always, always make the Commandos laugh, even if Steve and Bucky themselves don’t even realize they’re doing it.

Like cooking dinner, or as much of a dinner Army rations can be, next to each other near the fire in a forest somewhere, working flawlessly around each other when preparing food and pots and boiling water, without ever getting in the other’s way. Like when they argue, which _does_ happen, petty insults and swearwords flying to and fro, each one of them knowing just where to dig, how to hurt. Like when they finish each other’s sentences sometimes, or communicate in single words and looks to hash out a particular plan, like their own special and secret language, born from year-long familiarity. Like these things and many more. The others laugh and call them an old married couple, Bucky rolls his eyes and makes jokes, and Steve… Steve has to hide a blush.

The thing is, he sometimes feels like they _are_ a married couple. Not an old one, but still. Steve makes sure Bucky eats enough and if he finds a French book somewhere, he brings it to Bucky because he knows his friend loves the language. Bucky shares the chocolate from his rations and hovers at Steve’s shoulder when he gets hurt on missions, aggressively motherhenning and all but shoving him towards the med tent. They share a cot more often than not, because it’s usually damn near freezing at night. Steve has some of Bucky’s book in his pack, Bucky keeps a set of charcoal and paper in his own. They are so comfortable around each other, with each other, have been living in each other’s pockets such a long time, it certainly feels like they are a married couple.

Then again, sometimes it definitely doesn’t feel that way. Because if they actually were a couple, married or not, there’d be more sex.

It’s like this: Steve has always been attuned to Bucky, and for more years than he wants to count he’s also been attuned to, well, _Bucky_. There are things Bucky does that drive Steve almost insane with the need to just touch, just once, to touch and feel, finally feel. It’s been… somewhat easier back home in New York, before the war. They weren’t living together, for once, now they’re spending every waking moment and most of the sleeping ones in each other’s company. Steve had more space, in a way, had the chance to retreat and cool down if it got too much. He doesn’t have that chance anymore, these days. Privacy is a rare thing at the front lines.

Aside from that, they are closer than ever. Which is great, it’s wonderful, having Bucky so close after almost losing him, having him there and safe and whole. Bucky’s capture and everything that came afterwards, all the shit they went through together, it has strengthened their bond. Best friends they were before, now they are long past that. What are they, what do you call two people who are closer than friends, closer than brothers? SteveandBucky, that’s who they are, even the others rarely talk of them as two separate persons.

Steve likes it, he wants it, all the closeness and… affirmation that he gets from being with Bucky, but the problem is: he also wants more. He wants Bucky. But Bucky doesn’t even notice, doesn’t see how he affects Steve with all these little things he does and says and just is. That’s what makes everything hard and painful: Because if Bucky doesn’t notice, it means Bucky doesn’t see Steve the same way and that means they’ll never be... it’ll never happen.

It started not long after he got rescued: Bucky reached out to pat Steve on the shoulder or something. Since he wasn’t yet used to Steve being, well, suddenly quite a bit taller, he ended up patting Steve’s nipple, sending little zings through his entire body. That, Steve could ignore with a joke.

Other little things were harder to laugh off: for example how, these days, when Bucky hugs him, his face ends up pressed against Steve’s neck, lips curling into a smile against the soft of his throat. How, one evening, Bucky interlaced their fingers, hands curling around each other, utterly fascinated with how big Steve’s fingers suddenly were and utterly ignorant how them basically holding hands made Steve’s stomach flutter. How Bucky used to look at Steve’s bare chest these first few times, whistling appreciatively, eyes travelling over Steve’s new muscles, his look feeling like molten lava on Steve’s flushed skin. And especially how he once asked if, well, _everything_ grew and wouldn’t let off until Steve dropped his pants to show that yes, he’s _proportionate_. And oh, how it nearly killed Steve to not show his arousal under than gaze…

It would make Steve feel insulted, Bucky admiring his new body, while he never showed the slightest interest in his old one. But it’s not like there ever was anything, well, sexual about Bucky’s looks at Steve’s new body. Plus there are all the other things Bucky does that he did before, back in New York, that show he’s not seeing Captain America, but his old friend Steve. He still ruffles Steve’s hair, he still puts him in a headlock, he still shoves him off the log at the fire if Steve annoys him. He still talks to him the same way, about everything under the sun, same as before. He’s still Bucky, Steve is still Steve, they haven’t changed that much.

Except where they have changed. Bucky gets quiet sometimes, retreats back into himself and Steve knows exactly where his friend goes when he flinches at every sound and can’t bear people touching him. But he pulls himself back together time and again, shakes off the memories and starts making jokes with only a hint of darkness left in his eyes. Other people would long have broken, if not under Zola’s hands then under the weight of the memories, but Bucky is strong.

Bucky is a sniper now, their sniper, and he kills without hesitation if he needs to. This, him having to do that, is not what Steve would have wanted for his friend, never in a million years. But Bucky doesn’t do it easily, he’s not a killer like Steve’s seen others become out here, who kill and like it, Bucky takes it hard, every time. He’s not innocent, of course, none of them are, not anymore, but Bucky’s still… good. A good man.

The best, really, the best man Steve knows. Bucky’s the only one. Others were there, Peggy was there, for a moment, a flicker of light at the edge of Steve’s vision, but compared to his best friend… Bucky shines brighter than anyone else when Steve looks at him, he’s the single star in the night sky and there will never be anyone else who even comes close. Every look, every touch, every bit of contact between Bucky and burns Steve like fire.

And Bucky doesn’t even notice.


	6. And One: Steve again – part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I lied about this being the last chapter, I think, this is getting quite a bit longer than expected.

This is not how this was supposed to go, Steve thinks miserably, huddling further into his coat. His wet, rain-soaked coat that’s slowly stealing all the warmth from his body, coldness seeping into him, down to his very bones. It was supposed to be a quick treck to the nearest village, just him and Bucky, pick up certain things the General requested and use the opportunity to exchange information with the local Résistance chapter. Steve, because even here in France people know him and the Rèsistance’s leader likes him – and for the heavy lifting – and Bucky because he actually speaks French. Plus even the General knows they rarely do things without the other. Calls Bucky Steve’s little sidekick, even, which annoys Bucky to no end and always makes him point out that he’s actually a few years older.

Anyway, it was supposed to be a trip of half a day, nothing more. But the jeep broke down a few miles from the village – and then it started raining. They’ve tried continuing on foot, but the rain turns the earth into mud, sticking to their boots and dragging them down every few steps, so Steve’s let Bucky stay behind at a the ruin of a small house and went on alone to investigate how things are at the river.

He’s actually made quite good progress. But, standing there on top of the hill he’s struggled to climb for the last 10 minutes, it apparently doesn’t matter, because the bridge they would have to cross on their way back to camp isn’t actually there anymore. Ripped away by the river, which on their way to the village was a nice, gentle little stream, but now seems rather similar to what Steve would imagine the river Styx to look like. There’s no way they can cross that now, not in this rain, especially not in the darkness.

Steve sighs and turns around, less walking and more sliding down the muddy hill. Seems there’s no other option but to hole up in that rotten building he’s left Bucky at and wait till morning. Hopefully the rain will have stopped by then and they can find some way to cross the river. Or they can go back to the village and get someone to fix the car; or maybe the General will have sent someone to look for them by morning. They’ll see, for now they’ll just have to wait.

Shit, it’s cold, Steve thinks miserably and stumbles along the barely-visible path. Maybe the roof doesn’t have too many holes and they can actually get out of the rain? Lighting a fire is probably unlikely, but maybe there’s a dry corner somewhere. His super soldier metabolism is nice and all, but with this rain it’s too cold even for him – he doesn’t want to think about how Bucky’s doing, waiting for him to get back, sitting in that ruin, probably shaking like a leaf. Steve starts walking a little faster.

As it turns out Bucky hasn’t been idle while Steve was gone. Instead of sitting around waiting, he’s somehow managed to light a fire in the single room without any holes in the roof – well, one hole, but that seems to come in handy, letting the fire’s smoke out. Steve doesn’t even see the fire at first when he gets there, which he’s grateful for. They might be far from enemy lines at the moment and well within friendly territory, but that doesn’t mean lighting a visible fire is a good idea. But when he doesn’t see Bucky immediately and hastens into the ruin, hoping his friend hasn’t done something stupid like following him, he turns a corner and there it is, a fire blazing merrily away. Instantly Steve feels better, _warmer_. And, oh joy, Bucky’s even making dinner. Suddenly this wet, cold, miserable night doesn’t seem that bad anymore.

They share their meager dinner, then shake out their miraculously still mostly dry blankets to try and get some sleep. Steve offers to take the first watch, Bucky surprisingly doesn’t argue. So Steve puts his carefully cleaned and dried gun next to him within easy reach and settles in to keep watch. The fire’s burned down to embers and Bucky’s rolled up in his blankets like a mummy opposite from him. Steve watches him in the reddish light of the dying flames, feeling wistful and slightly sad, heart beating heavily in his chest. Bucky looks tired, there are faint frown lines on his forehead that Steve thinks weren’t there a few months ago, dirt is smudged high on his cheekbones and in Steve’s eyes Bucky has never been more beautiful than right now.

Steve averts his eyes and tries to focus on keeping watch.

It’s difficult, though, his gaze keeps returning to Bucky. Just quick looks at first, never more than a second, but eventually his eyes stay longer and longer, travelling over Bucky’s scrunched-up eyebrows and nose and tightly pressed lips, his huddled form, body curled in on itself. Jesus, Bucky, he thinks. You have no idea what you do to me.

And then he notices: Bucky is still shivering.

“You allright?” he immediately asks, whispering in case Bucky is already asleep.

Bucky snorts, keeping his eyes closed. “Can’t get warm,” he admits, voice as quiet as Steve’s, “even with the fire and food I’m still cold.”

“Take my blanket?” Steve suggests. “Or I can put more wood on the fire?”

“That’s not enough and you know it.”

“Oh.” Steve murmurs, then doesn’t know quite what else to say. “Uh, rub your arms or something?”

Bucky sighs heavily. “Stevie, you know that doesn’t work.” He seems to wait for Steve to say something or do something, but Steve’s at a loss. Finally, with another heavy sigh, he sits up and glares at Steve. “C’mon already, get over here. Shared body warmth, remember?”

And that is something Steve really should have anticipated. Did, actually, but refused to think about, because there’s nothing less he wants to do right now (or ever) than sharing a blanket with Bucky. While they are both naked.

Bucky huffs impatiently and extends an imperious hand, complete with snapping fingers. “C’mon Rogers, you big bastard. You know the drill as well as I do. Get naked and get over here.”

In a slightly different situation, Steve would obey without a second’s hesitation, but… please no. It’s hard enough sharing a cot with Bucky when they’re both dressed, ignoring all the places they touch and all that warmth and skin against his body, but naked? No fucking way.

“I, uh, shouldn’t I keep watch?” he murmurs and Bucky rolls his eyes.

“C’mon you punk, I’m cold, I’m still wet, come over here already and cuddle me naked. What’s the matter? We’ve done that before. I promise your virtue’s safe with me.”

Dear Lord, Steve thinks, slightly hysterical, this couldn’t get any worse. And then it does, because Bucky says “Please, Stevie?” and shit, he’s really shivering now, and really, there’s no way Steve can say no.

 

***

 

Bucky is cold to the touch, fingers and toes like icicles against Steve’s skin, his whole body trembling slightly. His wet hair is in Steve’s eyes, his cold and wet nose pressed against his neck and Steve thinks he can feel how Bucky’s body steals the warmth from Steve’s own like a leech. It’s actually not that bad. Okay, it’s cold and clammy and Steve starts shivering as well, but the… thing he was afraid might happen _doesn’t_ happen, because it’s just too damn cold. Steve can do this.

But gradually, they both warm up, Bucky stops shivering and his hands and feet thaw, as do Steve’s. Eventually they are nestled in a cocoon of warmth, the blankets surrounding them like a comfortable nest, their own little world where there’s no rain, no cold, just the two of them. Sharing body heat, sharing warmth, sharing breath.

This is where it gets bad. Because they are wrapped in each other’s arms, so close to each other, skin on skin. They are touching head to toe, only the cloth of their underpants between them, a layer so thin it might as well not exist at all. Bucky’s face is buried under Steve’s chin, his breath ghosting over his pecs. Their legs are tangled, Bucky’s right arm cushions Steve’s head, fingers splayed on his neck, his left hand lies on Steve’s chest, pinky barely grazing Steve’s nipple. Steve feels a familiar stirring in his groin, horrible and wonderful and right now, utterly, utterly unwelcome.

And then, then Bucky turns around so his back is to Steve, nestles back into Steve’s embrace and pulls Steve’s arms around his own chest. Now they’re spooning, front to back, Steve wrapped around Bucky as tight as it can get and oh, oh Jesus, oh Lord, oh dear Lord no, Bucky’s ass presses right against Steve’s dick.

Mere seconds later Steve is hard as a rock. And of course Bucky notices.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Muhaha. I love cliffhangers... :P


	7. And One: Steve again – part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this was supposed to be sex, this chapter. But then, like, WORDS happened and FEELINGS. Sorry?

Bucky stills suddenly, stiff as a board. “Steve?” he whispers, slowly and carefully.

Steve squeezes his eyes shut. Oh God no. Please, no.

“Steve?” Bucky asks again and Steve damn near whimpers.

He shuffles backwards a few inches, brings space between them, but it’s already too late. It’s far too late, it’s over. This is not what he wanted, God, no. He never meant for Bucky to find out, it was a secret he would have died to keep. It’s bad enough Steve thinks of Bucky… like that, his best friend, his brother in all but blood, but this? Bucky finding out? This is the end of everything between them. No more SteveandBucky, it’s over. Everything is over. Steve feels tears prick at his eyelids and slumps on his back, covering his face with both hands. What now? What should he do? What _can_ he do? God, this is bad, Steve thinks, horrible and bad and oh so awful, and feels his heart break.

Through the roaring in his ears he’s distantly aware of Bucky leaning over him. If he wants to punch Steve, he’ll take it. He feels like he deserves it for ruining their friendship. Let Bucky punch him, Steve won’t fight.

Bucky’s fingers peel Steve’s hands from his face. The fire’s almost gone out completely, he can’t see the other’s face clearly, just a pale moonlike shape in the dark. “How long?” Bucky asks and Steve starts trembling.

“Forever. Feels like forever.” he whispers, because despite everything, Bucky deserves to know the truth. Steve won’t lie to him even now. When it would be easier to just tell him it’s adrenaline, or nerves or not having had sex in too long or whatever. No, Bucky deserves the truth.

Bucky inhales sharply at Steve’s words. “Fuck, Steve!” he says and super-soldier or not, Steve feels weak right now. No strength left to stand against the anger in Bucky’s voice.

“Fuck, Steve, fuck! You complete asshole!”

Steve flinches when Bucky punches the ground right next to his head. “I’m sorry, Buck.” His voice sounds broken, “I’m so sorry, I’m sorry…”

The other laughs, sarcastic and hollow at the same time. “Yeah, I bet. You fucker, Steve, seriously. Fuck!”

“Sorry,” Steve whispers again, and “sorry, sorry”, while Bucky laughs forlornly, face turned away and shoulders shaking.

“Why didn’t you ever say something? Hm?” and now Bucky sounds angry again, “Why didn’t you ever tell me, Steve? Fuck, you’re so brave all the time, why be a coward with this? Fuck!”

Steve stares up at the ceiling. “I didn’t want you to…” he swallows around the lump in his throat, “I was scared you’d…”

“I’d what? Punch you? Yell at you? Kick you out on your ass? Shit, Steve, you’ve known me your whole life, you know me better than that! What, you thought I’d hate you for it?”

Steve’s “Yeah” is barely audible, but Bucky flinches as if he’d been hit. “Fucking hell, Steve, you know me. Jesus, all this time and you didn’t ever tell me.”

Steve says nothing, what else is there to say? Everything’s been said and done, it’s over. Bucky laughs again, a harsh sound in the darkness. “Fuck, you’re an asshole, Steve!” and Steve flinches at that. He deserves it, of course, but it still hurts. “All this time…” Bucky continues, sounding quite disbelieving, “You hid that all this time.”

Steve rolls away, onto his side, back to Bucky. It doesn’t feel like the other wants to punch him anymore, but… Steve really can’t face him right now. He feels cold again all of a sudden, all the warmth from earlier gone completely.

“Fuck, Steve. I had no idea, you hid that really well. But then again… apparently so did I.”

Steve stills. That sounded like… no. No, it can’t be.

“Steve. Stevie? Look at me.”

He doesn’t want to.

“Stevie, please? Turn around.”

No. He can’t take it.

“Look at me, come on. _Please_.”

Steve turns around. Bucky gazes down at him, the last glow of the fire forming a reddish halo around his face. He’s smiling. Steve feels a stirring of… _something_ in his chest. Then Bucky leans closer, closer, lips almost touching Steve’s cheek, leans in and says:

“Feels like forever for me, too.”


	8. And One: Steve again – part 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I should warn you that I’ve not written explicit slash in oh, three years.

For a minute, they just stare at each other, Bucky with a sort of hopeful half-smile on his face and Steve with disbelief on his. Then –

Steve rolls up, up and over Bucky, rolls them over so quickly and hastily Bucky’s head bounces off the ground. Neither of them notices, Bucky certainly doesn’t care, because he surges up just as Steve swoops down, they barely avoid banging their noses together, but finally, finally, their lips meet.

It’s not a kiss, per se, at least not like any kiss Steve has ever experienced before. It’s neither sweet nor gentle, no chaste bump of lips or playful meeting of mouths, no. It’s lips and teeth and tongues, dueling, fighting almost, trying to get the upper hand, teeth clacking in their haste to get closer, a breathless ravishing of each other’s mouths. Biting, fighting, feasting, devouring, a hungry battle for dominance neither can or even wants to win. Bucky sucks on Steve’s tongue like it’s his last meal, Steve’s teeth catch on his own lips or on Bucky’s, they don’t care and the taste of blood just fuels them on even more.

Bucky tastes sweet, like chocolate and bloody copper and wide open fields of sunshine, Steve pins him down and shoves his tongue in deeper. He feels wild, feral, wants to suck the very breath from Bucky’s lungs, wants to know him inside and out, wants to kiss him and taste him and never stop. The other must feel the same, because for every time Steve presses down on him, he shoves back up to get closer, for every time Steve rears back to suck in much-needed air he yanks him back down again and kisses him with a ferocity that matches Steve’s hunger. They kiss for what feels like ages, hours, days, Steve doesn’t care, he just knows this is it, this is everything, it’s finally _right_.

Eventually they do have to stop. Bucky slumps back, looking almost dazed, Steve feels a little dizzy himself. He’s lying on top of Bucky, hands cradling his friend’s head, Bucky’s arms around his neck, their legs tangled together, them touching in all the _delicious_ places, finally, and it feels… natural. Right. _Finally_.

“Wow.” Bucky sighs, a slow exhale of breath, his mouth doing that twisted curled smile that Steve loves so much and he can’t help but press a kiss to the corner of Bucky’s lips, tasting that smile. Wow indeed, he thinks, and smiles back. They kiss again, slower now, gently, tangling tongues and learning each other’s mouths. Sweet, careful, happy.

“We shoulda done this way earlier.” Bucky murmurs after long minutes, running a thumb over Steve’s eyebrows, travelling over his cheekbones and coming to rest on the skin under his ear, stroking softly. “Way, way earlier…”

“Yeah,” he says, shuddering with his whole body and nosing along Bucky’s jaw, “a lot of time wasted.”

Bucky hums and smiles, eyes falling half-shut when Steve licks at his throat. “Could have told me earlier, Stevie.” he says with a wink.

Steve huffs and nips at Bucky’s Adam’s apple. “Could say the same to you, seems like. Why didn’t _you_ ever tell _me_? I had no idea.”

Bucky twists underneath him, hands coming to rest at his nape, fingers entwining to keep him in a loose embrace Steve has no desire to break. “Didn’t know you’d be interested, same as you I guess. You’re so… Thought you could never see me like that. I’m just me. Just ol’ Bucky.”

Steve frowns and leans closer. “You’re not ‘just’ _anything_ , Buck.”

His friend (lover?) blushes faintly. Chuckles a little, embarrassed, and shifts again. “Well, yeah, but you’re _Captain America_ and I’m just…”

“I’m not, though.” Steve interrupts him immediately, because just… no. “I’m Steve. Same old Steve. Remember?”

Bucky blushes again and kisses him. “Yeah, I remember. My Steve. My Stevie… God, you’ve no idea how long I’ve wanted this…”

“Yeah?” Steve asks, a smile rising again. He won’t forget about this whole ‘just Bucky’ thing and Bucky’s kind of obvious feelings of inferiority next to Captain fucking America, but that’s a conversation for another day, hopefully. Right here, right now, there’s no Captain America. There’s just Steve and Bucky. “How long?”

“Remember that time Bryan Winters beat you up? When he’d been harassing that old lady and you couldn’t help yourself and stepped in?”

Steve frowns a little because: “Jeez, that was, what, 10 years ago? He broke my arm before you got there.”

“He did, but… like, he was what, two heads taller than you? And you didn’t stand a chance in hell and you still stood up to him and I just… I _saw_ you.”

“Hell, Bucky, seriously? I was bleeding and crying and all that, and you _still_ …?” What, suddenly decided he wanted Steve? Covered in bruises and tears and snot, with a broken arm. Come to think of it Steve’s pretty sure he threw up at some point, his arm hurt that bad, and Bucky still…?

“Yeah, still. Or maybe _because_ of that. Always so brave, Stevie. Stupid, yeah, but brave.”

Steve has to kiss him again for that, because how can he not? “So, even before I got all… big like this?” He hears how hesitant his voice sounds right now, this is kind of a sore point. From Bucky’s story just now it certainly seems like he liked Steve even when he was scrawny, but… just to be certain?

“Hell, Steve, it’s not about that. Not to say that all these muscles aren’t nice, and I’ve definitely enjoyed watching you in the showers, but it’s not about that. Plus, I can still throw you in the river if you piss me off, super soldier or not.” And as if to prove a point, Bucky’s legs wrap around Steve’s hips, causing him to shudder at the suddenly _very_ close contact between their groins, and before Steve’s gotten his bearings back, Bucky has rolled them over and is straddling him.

Oh, Steve thinks faintly, this feels… and then Bucky _grinds_ against him and fuck, Steve suddenly notices he’s been hard for what feels like a year. Bucky’s not better off, judging from the searing hardness pressing against him through their underwear. He repeats the motion, a slow, almost lazy roll of his hips, sending fire through Steve’s vein, smirking down at him victoriously from where he’s sitting on Steve’s thighs. “See?” Bucky murmurs, voice slightly rough and oh so sexy, “your super strength’s no match for me.”

For this, there’s only one appropriate reaction: Steve musters said super strength and rolls them again, pressing the other into the blankets. Bucky’s flailing legs evaded, pinned down with Steve’s hips, his arms held immobile next to his head by Steve’s heads, a quiet little “oof” from Bucky’s mouth that Steve swallows in a kiss and Bucky is trapped. He settles down more comfortably, hips pinning Bucky’s hips, groin against groin, hardness against searing hardness. Bucky held down underneath Steve, trapped and immobile, caught, Steve thinks and feels a flare of _something_ inside.

Not that Bucky seems to mind being trapped underneath Steve, no. His lover’s eyes flutter shut when he grinds down against him, cock twitching against Steve’s. His mouth opens in something that is neither a pant nor a sigh nor a moan, but a mixture of all three. Beautiful, really, and Steve does it again, undulates his hips against the other until Bucky releases a small sob. Beautiful… and mine, Steve thinks and kisses Bucky hard.

“So,” he asks after a while, breathing heavily, Bucky panting and staring up at him from wide eyes, “so far for my super strength.” Bucky rolls his eyes, but then Steve presses him down again, thigh moving between his legs and pressing just _so_ , and Bucky’s eyes roll back for an entirely different reason than annoyance. Steve leans in, puts his mouth directly next to Bucky’s ear and whispers: “Wanna see what else is super about me?”

Bucky’s answer starts out as a laugh but, as Steve gets to work, soon turns into a long, drawn-out moan.

 

***

 

The remaining wood they have is actually a little, but Steve’s thrown more logs onto the fire anyway. The near darkness of earlier is gone, it’s still not exactly bright in this small, damp room, but this way Steve can make out more than just Bucky’s shape, now he gets to actually _see_. And God, what a thing to behold this is…

Bucky on his back, legs splayed wide, underpants hastily torn off and thrown into a corner. His stomach heaving with every breath, his entire frame trembling slightly, a faint blush on his skin, all the way down to his toes. The flush isn’t caused by the fire, the trembling isn’t caused by the cold, no, this is all Steve’s doing and he feels wickedly proud at that thought. He licks a broad stripe from Bucky’s neck all the way down to the soft dark hairs below his navel, tasting his skin. Both of them haven’t taken a proper bath in quite a while, so he tastes sweat and grime on his lover’s skin, but he doesn’t care, he doesn’t give a damn. Because underneath all that is a taste that is entirely Bucky, sweet and fiery and oh so delicious, drawing him in, pulling him deeper and Steve follows that taste, buries his face in the crease between Bucky’s hip and thigh, where the taste gets stronger, almost overwhelmingly potent. He licks at the skin there, worries it with his teeth, sucks and licks and damn near gnaws on Bucky’s skin, wants more of that taste and of Bucky and of _everything_.

Bucky’s hands are twisted in Steve’s hair now, pulling at it, just about yanking it out. Steve’s only distantly aware of it or of Bucky cursing and pleading above him, telling him: “C’mon, you bastard, c’mon, please, you fucking ass, c’mon do it do it do it!”

Steve ignores it, ignores the hot length of Bucky’s erection pressing against his cheek, leaving a trail of moisture behind. He ignores how Bucky’s hands pull at him, how his lover’s ankles press against the small of his back, trying to urge him forward. He ignores it, utterly focused on filling his nose and mouth with the smell and taste of Bucky, until there’s nothing else he knows. This, right now, this is for Steve, this is what he’s been waiting for his entire life: touching, tasting, finally _knowing_. And only when he’s had his fill does he focus on what Bucky wants him to do.

He’s pretty sure Bucky thinks Steve is still a virgin. Suave, charming, flirting Bucky next to Steve who still blushes and stammers when he talks to a woman. All these jokes about Steve not knowing how to ‘dance’, it’s rather obvious, even if Steve was actually talking about literal dancing. But he’s spent months on tour as Captain America before he got to Bucky, surrounded by dancers and show business people. Pretty girls who got lonely all the time and quite a handful of fellas who were happy to, well, lend a hand, or do more. Steve doesn’t talk about it, never was one of the guys who brag about their conquests, but he does have quite a lot of experience. And now’s the perfect time to show Bucky just how well he can… _dance_.

Steve doesn’t bother with finesse, with all the excitement and arousal and sheer _hunger_ coursing through him he puts his mouth on Bucky’s cock and simply swallows him down. He pulls him in as far as he can, the head of his lover’s erection bumping the back of his throat, sucks and licks and nibbles, pulls back for air and then immediately dives back down. Bucky surrounds him, his taste exploding on Steve’s tongue, his smell overwhelming his nose, the coarse hairs on his thighs tickling Steve’s ears. He’s swimming in Bucky, drowning in Bucky, Bucky everywhere, just Bucky, Bucky, Bucky. The other’s fingers pull desperately at his hair, his moans and shouts and curses and pleas ring through his entire being, Bucky’s legs wrap around his neck and pull him in closer, Steve follows eagerly, swallows Bucky down to the root and still can’t get him deep enough. Teeth barely covered by Steve’s lips, he’s not gentle, fingers digging into Bucky’s hips to hold down and bruise and claim. Bucky doesn’t care, Bucky doesn’t mind, yanks him closer still and eggs him on between panting breaths. Fire blazing next to them, painting Bucky’s skin like red gold, fire inside Steve, setting his body ablaze. And fire down his throat, redhot, molten lava when Bucky comes. Steve swallows it all, feels it warm his core, Bucky beneath him and around him and inside him; Steve _burns_.

“Fuck,” Bucky says, wheezes, “fuck, fuck, Steve, fuck…”

Steve shudders; Bucky’s voice, oh God, throaty, so rough, broken. Bucky’s hands, still tugging at his hair in weak movement, Bucky’s ankles still crossed at his neck. Bucky’s taste still on his tongue, God. Steve shoves a hand between his own legs, can’t help himself, wraps a hand around his dick and explodes all over his own fingers after the first touch.

Bright spots dance on the back of his closed eyelids – when did he close them? He pants for breath, gulps down big chunks of air like a man drowning. Bucky pulls at him, tries to tug him upwards: “Steve, c’mere, Steve, come on!”

Steve obeys, surging up and over Bucky like a wave, meets his mouth in a furious kiss. The other meets him eagerly, groans against Steve’s lips and damn near bites his tongue off. This, Steve thinks, this, and then has no more words in his head because everything drowns in _Bucky_.

Eventually they calm down, their clash of mouths turning into something gentler and sweeter. Steve presses little kisses to Bucky’s eyebrows and nose and the cleft of his skin, his eyelids and ears and his red red lips. Bucky’s hands card through Steve’s hair, nails scratching his head lightly, and he smiles a smile Steve’s never seen before. Small, private, intimate, just for him. This is mine, Steve thinks, mine alone and his heart sings.

Steve’s head ends up on Bucky’s chest, his cheek pressed against the warm skin. Bucky’s hands are carding through his hair, gently stroking, his thumb coming to rest on Steve’s neck below his ear, sending small explosions of pleasure through his body. Bucky’s heart beats strongly under Steve’s ear like the most beautiful music he’s ever heard and Steve can’t help but laugh with the joy of it all.

Bucky hums happily at that and tangles their feet. “Not bad,” he says, “not bad at all. I knew you could dance.”

Steve nips at his lover’s chest in retaliation for that weak joke. “You had no idea, don’t even pretend otherwise.”

“Yeah okay. The serum teach you how to do that?”

Steve smiles against Bucky’s chest. “Not really.”

The other snickers. “Yeah, didn’t think so. Still, not bad for our first time. Though…”

“Hmm?” Steve lifts his head to look at Bucky.

“Though while this” Bucky waves a hand, indicating their naked and sticky state, “certainly was… _mind_ - _blowing_ –“ Steve’s eyeroll is met with a filthy grin, “I was kinda expecting more… stamina, you know? You’re supposed to be… _super_ , aren’t you?”

And this? Well, this is not something Steve can just let slide – he pounces.

Though, judging from Bucky’s eager grin and the way he gladly opens his arms to pull Steve closer, this reaction is exactly what his lover was hoping for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to admit: I did not actually properly re-read this after I'd written it, because it made me blushy and uncomfortable and I'm really shy. Additionally, this was supposed to be "practice" for that other fic "Around the Bend", where I'm quite determined to have proper, explicit sex, but then I kind of chickened out. Sorry...


	9. And One: Steve again – part 4/4

As it turns out the next morning, General Phillips did send someone to look for them. Steve waves to the men on the jeep from his position half-inside the ruined house where they spent their night.

“Cavalry’s here.” He tells Bucky, who’s only just now emerged from their little room, yawning and scrubbing both hands over his face to wake himself up.

Bucky looks tired, but perks up at the sound of the car approaching. “Thank God,” he says, leaning against the wall next to Steve, “I don’t think I’d have wanted to walk the whole way back to camp.” Steve grins at that and wraggles his eyebrows. Bucky shoves a pointy elbow into the tender spot between Steve’s ribs. “Yeah yeah yeah, you assface. You really are super, blahblahblah.”

“Nice of you to notice.” Steve is aware of how smug his voice sounds, but who cares if there’s just the hint of a bitemark peeking over the collar of Bucky’s uniform. A bitemark that Steve put there. Smug? Hell yes, he is smug, he’s got every reason to be.

Bucky snorts and winces when his ass meets the wall. “Fuck you, Rogers.” Steve opens his mouth for the perfect comeback, but Bucky shoves him before he can voice it: “Careful, punk. You don’t wanna mess with me!”

“Oh yeah?” Steve asks challengingly, meeting Bucky’s grin with one of his own. “Why not, jerk?”

“Because…” Bucky murmurs, leaning in close and tangling their fingers for a brief moment, “I can always make you sleep on the floor.”

Then he saunters off, towards the jeep, the hitch in his step barely noticeable. Steve looks after him, unable to stop grinning. It took them a damn long time to get here, but they’ve got the rest of their lives to make up for it.

 

**THE END**

 

 

 

**Bonus scene**

Not much has changed between Steve and Bucky, really, except for all the things that _have_ changed. They still argue, a lot, because Steve dives head-first into danger and Bucky still thinks his own life is worth less than that of others. But now there’s make-up sex to look forward to for after. They still finish each other’s sentences, driving the others mad because they have entire conversations that no one but them can follow. Now, there are occasions where they are both quite happy about that, because if the others would know what Bucky’s questioning eyebrow raise means or Steve’s subtle flick of his skin, well, then their private life would be a lot less private.

Another thing that hasn’t changed at all is how Steve is still constantly getting turned on by any random little thing Bucky does. How he looks when he’s just woken up, on the days they actually get to sleep in a little, not being woken up by sirens or shouts, soft and loose-limbed and wild-haired. How his nose scrunches when he reads something funny, how he sticks his finger into the soup to see if it’s hot enough, licking the liquid off with a quick sneak of his tongue. How he smiles at Steve sometimes for no reason, simply happy to see him. How he frowns in his sleep when Steve has to get up earlier than he does, hands reaching out instinctively, trying to pull him back into his embrace.

Yeah, that hasn’t changed at all – except for how it did. Because now Bucky _knows_. And definitely takes great delight in using it to his advantage. He announces he’s going back to their tent and throws Steve this _look_ over his shoulder, the one that has Steve floundering for a good excuse to follow him. He lies on their bed with a book and sans shirt, smiling like he exactly knows what it’s doing to Steve to see him like that, the graceful arch of his back, the mesmerizing shift of his muscles when all he does is turn a page. He sits next to Steve, throws an arm around his shoulder with some kind of joke, then laughs against his ear, breath puffing hotly against his cheek. And the way he eats chocolate these days, God…

Yeah, everything’s changed. And Steve is glad for it.

 

 

 

 

AND THEY LIVED HAPPILY EVER AFTER AND THEN BUCKY FELL AND STEVE WAS SAD BUT THAT IS STILL A LONG WAY OFF AND ANYWAY LATER THEY REUNITED AND THEN THEY REALLY LIVED HAPPILY EVER AFTER AND ALL THE FEELS AND THE END!!


End file.
